


You and I, Me and You

by QuintessentialQuill



Series: Tempered Grace [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Belts, Caning, Captivity, Drowning, Fights, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Kink Negotiation, Light Masochism, Masochism, Past Relationship(s), Restraints, Training, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuintessentialQuill/pseuds/QuintessentialQuill
Summary: Flashbacks stitched and woven through a heady interrogation.
Series: Tempered Grace [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743088
Kudos: 1
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	1. The Setup.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira regains consciousness restrained to a chair in a rather unsophisticated manner. Something about it seems very deliberate.  
> Because it is.  
> Jared is precise and he has his reasons. He’s caught someone hauntingly familiar - And soon, he will want some answers.

The air was musty. Sensations crept into her painstakingly slow. Her tongue flicked across something bland and coarse, she could trace the bunched-up cloth all the way to the back of her mouth. The frayed edges were tickling her throat and suddenly that was the most overwhelming sensation among the many others. She gagged reflexively, winced and tried coughing the fabric out. Something was in the way, freaking duct tape. Unbelievable. This had to be some rookie, right? It certainly felt that way. A false sense of relief lulled her. Her racing heart paced itself again and she worked on management. First, used the tongue to rearrange the sloppy the fabric.  
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. 

Easier said- or rather thought- than done but sputtering into a rag for any inconceivable length of time, would be a perfect way to exhaust herself before things even had the chance to get worse. And that would be unwise. She had enough experience to know they would get worse. Something about this had always felt inevitable.  
The breathing did succeed in supressing the reflex and felt akin to meditative processes she’d adopted a long time ago… For good measure she followed through and checked in with her body.

Head: A dull throbbing headache.  
Neck: Sore, probably because her head had been lolling against her shoulders before she gained consciousness.  
Shoulders: Strained, but not too painfully.  
Arms: Pulled back, behind the backrest and forearms wrapped with copious twine.  
Ankles: Tied to the legs of the chair… Metal legs. 

No shoes. Yes, clothes… They weren’t even too dishevelled, surprisingly. Her leather jacket wasn’t on her, but circumstances didn’t quite allow her to rue that. The sleeves of her white shirt were rolled up, as were the ends of her dark jeans. From the feel of it, the folds felt rather tidily done. Someone had intentionally gone through the trouble of doing this, exposing her skin to the irritating twine – That, was the first thing that left her a little unsettled, she tried not to dwell on it.  
Small, testy motions revealed that all the binds were secure. Not good.  
Opening her eyes felt like the next reasonable thing to do. The flaming orange against her lids should’ve been warning enough…  
Fuck. 

She groaned softly and clenched them shut again, on instinct. She’d seen enough in that glimpse to notice two halogen lamps trained onto her. One at ten o’clock and one at two. No wonder it was so hot, she could feel the beads of sweat glistening on her skin.  
She squinted this time; it didn’t help much against the assault of the brightness, so her gaze fell to the floor, to buy her eyes time to accommodate. Letting her head hang alleviated some of the tension in her muscles. She rolled her shoulders as much as the backrest of the metal chair would allow. When her eyes finally did stop protesting and she looked up, she noticed that the room hung in a sharp contrast. Save for the lights, very little was visible. However, this time, she noticed a tripod supporting a camera stood between the spotlights. It was an archaic device… and it seemed like it wasn’t on – This was the second thing that left her feeling disconcerted. Everything about her current predicament was so old-school. Like put together shoddily by some nobody.  
Or a very precise somebody. 

The darkness spoke, the shadows spat out a silhouette.  
“Glad to have you back.”  
She held her breath and grew very still. This was a very precise somebody indeed and he was not going to make this easy. 

He’d remained in the shadows, but there was no way she didn’t recognize his voice. He hadn’t taken any measures to conceal it either, he *wanted* her to know. He smirked at the way she froze. It felt like a compliment. It was merely her internal processer short-circuiting, not so much out of fear but simply shock. A part of him had hoped for the former, but he knew better. She wouldn’t betray fear this early and this unstimulated. No, Akira wasn’t easy to scare. 

She wasn’t always a quick study, but he’d had a lot of experience in general and with her, specifically. Now, she’d internally scramble and pick up the scattered pieces of her temporarily shattered cheekiness and immediately seek to establish that it was still there, that she was totally unfazed by the turn of events. She couldn’t speak, but she narrowed her eyes, and raised her eyebrows. Her words sought freedom with a silent ferocity. He could tell and he wanted her to prove him right. Consistency had always been a tough bargain with her, he felt special in being able to coax it out. 

Jared stepped towards her with a garish smile but didn’t bother to make eye contact, he was sure she was craving that, to get her own read on him. Not yet. He busied himself with rolling the sleeves of his black shirt, with as much precision as he’d done hers. 

The shadow of his form fell on her and gave her some respite from the light, allowing the room to briefly reveal its secrets if her eyes searched for them. It was larger than the oppressive darkness would first suggest. Rickety pipes crawled up the walls, wooden boxes tumbled over one another in another corner. 

He finished by using the flap on the underside of the sleeve, to secure his work.  
In another flash and with a cringe worthy rip the duct tape flew off.  
She gasped and she hissed a swear word, then smacked her lips together willing sensation back into the awkwardly pinched skin. He gave her a moment. Three… two… one. Cue something snarky.

“I bet I look incandescent, don’t I? Ready for the show, where’s the rest of the crew?”  
Typical.  
He decided to play his part too, perhaps less predictably though. He sat on his haunches in front of her. Instantly flooding her with light again. He placed his fingers on her knee. She tensed ever so slightly, but palpably. It was exquisite. She’d never been one to make big gestures or loud sounds. She made eliciting the smallest reactions, a challenge and so, she always made each one feel like a prize. 

Jared was in the mood to reap some rewards and he was willing to cheat for them.  
He stifled the need to chortle and caressed the grazed parts of the worn jeans, some skin peeked through the raw strands of the fabric. He inched towards the inseam. And suddenly, he tucked his thumb into the crook of the joint. 

The ripple that sent through her leg, was largely involuntary, she contorted awkwardly. He still hadn’t looked at her yet, but he could almost feel her glare. A long time ago, this would’ve left her in a fit of giggles. He noticed the way the loops of twine bit into her ankle, it chafed skin, leaving delicate rawness in its wake. He graced the moment with the chuckle he’d held back.  
Both his hands rested on her knee now and his chin lay cradled against his knuckles. He finally looked up at her. 

“You look resplendent. Sorry, couldn’t afford a crew, so it’s just you and I. Me and you… Like the setup, certainly, you remember, don’t you?”


	2. 'You're better for it.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The setup is meant to coax a specific memory, and it does. A flashback for Akira and Jared - A testament of a relationship that grew frictional as they were forced to delicately balance their budding romance against the expectations of their titles as ‘mentor’ and 'rookie’

She remembered.  
The intensive prep phase before her first real mission. It was not just him and her then, at least not literally in that clammy room, that did quite accurately resemble the one she found herself in now. Maybe her brain was just drawing parallels at his prompting.  
Bright lights masked ‘enemies’ and the fidgety rookies strapped to their chairs.  
It was not just him and her in that room that day, but outside of it, they existed, together. They thought secretly and discreetly…  
They had told themselves that they could compartmentalize, clinically separate themselves from their jobs somehow.  
Naturally, somehow was not good enough. How was it supposed to be, when it was the very same job that kept them together?  
Their personal encounters were as messy, raw, frictional and confrontational as things got that day—when that clinical separation failed them, spectacularly. 

~~~

Her nails clawed into her arms, just above the elbow. She scratched, hoping to tear away at the  
inexplicable itch of impatience. Frustration was evident in the incessant motion. It was probably heightened by the lack of sleep. They had all been made to stay awake for about thirty-ish hours now, one way or another. And now this.  
She really didn’t see the point of this, she was too acutely aware that this wasn’t real.  
He was among the masked and he’d taken a spot behind Akira, casually leaning against the wall, puffing away at his cigarette. They had it easy. But perhaps, that was not too bad? Their enemies too, were tamer than the one Jared had dealt with. 

He’d been watching her like a hawk though. She was like a ticking timebomb. And for some reason, he felt responsible.  
Scarlett and Jared exchanged a look of concern.  
Another masked man put a hood over Nova, a newbie, just like Akira. As she squirmed at the loss of sight. It happened…  
Akira snickered.  
And he lost it. 

Nobody stopped him, nobody helped her, because now, it was them. The way he leapt at her, felt feral. It only took one sharp tilt and tug to tip her chair towards him.  
She told herself the squeal came from a shock and not fear, as she sprawled backwards. Her arms took the brunt of the fall and were pinioned to the floor, by her weight, that of the chair… and of a boot. It was to the right of her neck. 

A masked man loomed above her, it was his foot by her side. She could see it peripherally and resisted the urge to turn and stare it down like it was some specimen that she could be morbidly fascinated with – because it was not.  
This had to be some scare tactic, right? She looked back up at the masked figure, the ceiling lights were behind him, it was difficult to make him out, but she already had a sinking suspicion.  
Her eyes narrowed, as smoke billowed from the cigarette and specks of ash swirled above her. A small whimper formed in her throat and died somewhere on its journey up to her mouth. She had pursed her lips together, to prevent any of those wanton sounding cries from escaping. Her focus was largely on enduring the pain in her wrists as they were being unevenly ground against the concrete floor. 

He took another slow drag from his cigarette. The chair teetered and wobbled, using her arms as a pivot, under the guidance of his foot. He put some more weight on as he crouched, so his face was closer to hers. Steel-grey eyes stared into the dark storm that challenged them, inherently.  
“Something funny?”  
His words brought with them a plume of smoke that flattened itself against Akira’s face before dispersing.  
She coughed. They were not gagged, the point of this exercise was for them to choose silence, while they were questioned. Now that his face was closer, recognition offered affirmations to her suspicions.  
No. Fuck. 

“Hmm? Got something to say?” He probed, detached, resolute and internally livid.  
Maybe she intended to protest, maybe she was going to succumb and wanted to share the information they were ordered to keep to themselves… To safe-word her way out of this – but when she opened her mouth. He flattened his palm against it.  
“No, no you don’t.” 

He gently held the edge of the glowing tip against her skin, just where the shoulder met the neck.  
She held back the cry as she seared.  
He rolled it around, dropping excess ash, before pressing it into the cinder-marked spot.  
She could not hold back this time. Something that sounded like a mangled plea, slipped out of her mouth and between his finger.  
He pressed on.  
And she bit his finger – Hard. Harder yet… Till she tasted his blood. 

He didn’t react, not even a hiss, not even a wince. And he didn’t pull away either, not until he’d extinguished the butt.  
Laboured breathing ensued. The unexpectedness and the pain left her tongue-tied. She didn’t want to be weak. But what the hell was this?  
A blood-tainted hand patted her cheek, and it left its traces.  
She closed her eyes and was disgusted by the tears that streaked through the fresh stain.

“Still funny?”  
He pulled himself up and took off the mask and threw it to the floor.  
Now confirmed. Why did it have to be him? She was hoping against hope that she was mistaken. It brought a whole new wave of indignation.  
“FUCK JARED. YOU ASSH- …”  
She cut herself off, with a groan and surrendered to rattling in her chair, with a pathetic sort of futility. There was a crippling realisation, that despite this merely being a training exercise, she could not really get up and fight him. 

He could have struck her for the insults, but his anger had waned. And that was not necessary. He’d made his point.  
He realised that he had unfairly taken advantage of the intimacy he shared with her. Not only did it allow him to pick her as his victim, he went further than mandated, at least by the protocol for the mission that was to follow.  
The consequences for a slip-up like hers would have been handled more professionally and for all he knew his stunt didn’t quite absolve her from that. 

Regardless, of all that, he had to admit there was an efficiency to his way, or so he thought. And now that it was already done, he was not about to lose that momentum. Jared pressed his palms together and addressed everyone now.  
“Remember, if you’re caught, there will be nothing funny about it. You’ll be going nowhere. You’ll be trapped and you’ll be at their mercy… It is imperative you all learn what you can and can’t say.”  
Akira’s struggle was now an example.

-

He sought her out later that day. He stood outside her apartment, knocking as incessantly as she’d been scratching.  
“If it helps, I had to get stitches.”  
He wasn’t lying, but that didn’t matter, because he also wasn’t apologizing. She wasn’t too receptive to the idea of talking, at least that day.  
But by no means was this the end of what they shared. 

~~~

“Seems like so long ago, right?”  
Jared’s voice helped Akira snap out of a reverie they both had indulged. She was back on the metal chair, sitting upright with the itchy twine to keep her in the chair.  
“That was an asshole move.”  
A residual bitterness that she thought she had buried, clawed its way to the surface. Maybe it was the predicament of truly being at his mercy today.  
“Yet, you’re better for it and here we are…”  
He was standing in front of her, and he ran his fingers down her neck towards her shoulder to feel for the small scar he’d left with the cigarette.  
She could not stop him physically, but she did not really care enough to want to, even if she could’ve.  
The scar sat there, almost imperceptibly, till that single cares drew out memories all over again.


	3. Careful what you ask for.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared reminds Akira of the mission that follows the training debacle. One she did not fully succeed at.   
> The flashback offers a window into what follows: Akira seeks penance for her failure in a manner that Jared is uncomfortable indulging.   
> He caves at a personal cost... And incidentally, they discover Akira's relationship with pain.

She did not lean into his touch, but it took some effort. Even after all this time. Was the struggle palpable, in the rigidity of her form, the air that she did not exhale?   
At least she did not recoil. A part of him expected her to, another expected that to hurt and yet another wished that she had. He was not a stranger to the contradictions of the subconscious, but she really had a way to accentuate them. 

“You did fail that mission, didn’t you?”  
He asked a painful question and he cradled her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb, with mocking affection. A patronizing sympathy.   
She did snap away from his touch; in whatever little capacity she could manage. Her eyes narrowed viciously. Reminders of failure still stung.   
There was the recoil he had craved and dreaded.   
“We’ve always defined success differently, haven’t we?”   
Her attempts at skirting around the subject were as adorable as they were pathetic. He hummed thoughtfully and conceded.   
“Perhaps it wasn’t a failure, but even you couldn’t call it a success.”

She did not like his emphasis, he’d always found ways to twist her optimism into naivety. But he really was not being as cruel as he could. It hurt because he was right, and he did not rub that in too much. She was the one who had dubbed the mission a failure despite the fulfilled objective.   
He remembered the debriefing and everything that followed with skittish endearment. 

~~~

He was still predisposed to choosing silence over words. It served him well in times like these. Gave him a chance to measure his thoughts and not make matters worse with unbridled accusations.   
He never understood why they could not afford more lights. Personally, he preferred the dark, but the lack of light was in sharp contrast with the sophistication of the building. The only sources of light were strips of guiding LEDs stuck to the junctions of the concrete ceiling and floor. The thin strips ran parallelly across the corridors. He knew others who had an aversion to the oppressive quality of the dimness and used the softly lit walls as anchors. He found himself walking in the tenebrous middle, usually with his hands stuck in his pockets.   
He was inconvenienced by this today. 

He had heard the scuffle of footsteps approach but did not turn to acknowledge them.   
Until small hands shoved against him provocatively.   
He paused to take a deep breath.   
Patience.   
He whipped around and grabbed those dainty wrists. She was just so much tinier than he was… That realisation made him slower and measured.   
She struggled, with large gestures, like her fight was not with his grip at all… But something else, something within her. A biting frustration.   
It was now that he realised the lack of light could be annoying. He could not see her features well enough. Just the slightly reddened white of her eyes, that gleamed up at him with a manic craving.   
No, given everything that had happened, of course it was not the lusty sort. 

“Say something, damn it!”  
Her voice reverberated with such force; he could feel it in his chest.   
He pushed her against the wall so they could see each other better.   
“Don’t let them hear you talk to me that way, I’m still-”  
“I. DON’T. CARE.”  
His hiss was in sharp contrast to her screechy protest this time.   
It looked like she was willing trouble upon herself.   
He transferred her wrists into a single palm and pulled her back against his chest. His arm coiled around her petite form and his free hand covered her mouth.   
“Don’t bite me again.” He warned, flatly.   
She did not. Her protests were feeble, incomprehensible and not directed at him.   
He directed her to his room. It was a familiar place, hopefully it would help her calm down.   
The door closed behind them. It was just them now. 

He hauled her all the way to the bed, dropped her there like dead-weight and turned away.   
She sprung up and sat kneeling.   
“Look at me!”  
Tears clung to her lashes.   
He did not, he leaned against his worktable, resolutely facing away from her.   
“Did you tell them everything?”  
“Yes.”   
It was the first time she sounded even, and it was just a monosyllable.   
“And?”  
“Nothing. They said we retrieved what we were meant to get and that they would have someone double-check my work, from here on out… But. Nothing.”  
She could see the exasperation in the way he ran his hands through his hair.   
That was not enough for either of them.   
“Well… that’s reasonable right… Not so bad. Maybe-”  
“Maybe what, Jared?”   
She inched towards the edge of the bed, closer to him. 

He didn’t respond, his grip on the table tightened till his knuckles whitened. He shut his eyes.   
Don’t say it.   
“I know it was my fault.”   
Her eyes were rivetted onto him as he turned. His eyes met hers.   
Finally, he was not looking at her and not through her.   
“What do you want me to say?”   
She lowered her eyes and shook her head wordlessly.   
“To do…?” he already had his answer within that question.   
The realisation was not easy to stomach. He knew this feeling all too well. It was easier to atone back then, there was always someone willing to hurt him.   
He hooked his finger under her chin, tilting it up. Wide, lost eyes looked back up at him. Shameful, guilty and disgusted. He finger-combed her dark tresses, in silence.   
She tilted forward, cradling her chin against his touch and letting her head lean against his chest. 

“Shira, I can’t- It’s not right. Sometimes unexpected shit happens and its oka-”  
She stiffened, swatted his hand away and shoved against him viciously.   
“Don’t you say it’s okay! What the hell is wrong with you?”  
He raised his hands and stepped away, letting them fall onto his hips. His patience was wearing thin.   
Just give it to her, she is asking for it.   
That stupid voice again. His voice.   
“Stop, Shira.”   
“You were fine sticking a cigarette into my neck.”   
“Shira…”   
“You’re a fucking coward. A convenient coward at that.”   
She is not wrong. You are being weak.   
A tie was loosened, a buckle was undone. The silence that followed was immediate and so stark, that they could hear the belt slide and snap out of the loops.   
He folded it, doubling the leather over itself.   
He raised it over and across his shoulder to wind up for a back-handed flick. A light warning strike.   
“FINE.”   
He had given her enough time to block. So, she did. The belt wound and snapped against her forearm. She winced. So, did he. But it sounded worse than it felt.   
She pulled her hand away.   
He stood there, with the belt limply hanging against his thigh while he waited for her to decide what she wanted. 

“You win. Happy?”   
She did not reply. She faced away from him, kneeling on the bed again and bared her back.   
When she stilled, he understood his cue.   
The lights were lacking, but at least the rooms were relatively soundproof.   
She did not interrupt the crack of the belt against skin at all, for the first dozen strikes. Then, he could make out her breath hitch. Soon she began holding her breath and exhaling in soft, staccato whimpers. The sounds grew longer and more frequent, but never much louder. Eventually, in a resigned state, she merely hissed, sucking in air through her teeth as the evidence of her penance grew apparent even in the dark room.   
The diffuse pink that warmed her back, soon began sporting darker lines of deeper red. The belt did not break skin, but it did coax welts, particularly across her shoulders and her shoulder blades.   
She keeled forward, burying her face into his pillow. She could smell him, she sought reassurance in that while she chose to continue suffering. But he paused… Or stopped. Hopefully the former. 

Disjointed and memories flooded into his mind with abandon. None of them were pleasant. He played the perpetrator and the victim, graver wounds, deeper scars… 

“Please…” her muffled appeal lured him out of his head.   
“Please stop?”   
“No… More.” She said, her voice slightly raspy. Her meaning was clear, but he didn’t want to believe it. He could see the stains of the silent tears on his pillowcase.   
“No more?” he asked hopefully.   
“More.” She corrected, still weakly, but with a mild annoyance. 

‘Sometimes, you can only rebuild something that is broken.’   
He hated that a dead man’s words, from a long time ago, could so easily slip into his mind.   
He grit his teeth and threw the belt beside her.  
“N-No.”   
He was not sure if he was replying to her, to himself or that voice in his head. His voice broke unexpectedly. He rubbed his temples and cleared his throat.

She was still for a moment, taken aback by the hurt she heard in his voice. But it did not last long, her own guilt came surging back. She grunted defiantly and began clawing at her shoulders, her nails quickly drew beads of blood from the welts.   
He really could not catch a break! Her hands were, he could not believe how viciously those tiny digits could work.   
“THEY HAVE HER. BECAUSE OF ME.” She growled.   
He flattened her under him, trying his best to avoid leaning on her raw back. He did not succeed entirely, but it worked in his favour, making it easier for him to subdue her.  
He wrestled her hands away from her back and pinned them down. He pulled off his tie and secured those deceptively fragile looking wrists. He made sure she was lying on her stomach.   
“Stop, for fucks sake Shira.” 

He used the belt to secure her legs for good measure.   
He watched her squirm and protest indecipherably into his pillow. Till she exhausted herself into silence. Her breathing was loud and dissatisfied somehow.   
Jared flopped next to her on his back and looked up at the ceiling.  
“Yes, they have her, she’ll have to be rescued. They won’t kill her, but it won’t be pretty either. Yes, you failed and had to leave one of ours behind because of it.”   
He turned to his side to face her, resting his head against his propped elbow. He tugged the strands of her hair, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to get her attention.   
“And you’re going to be fucking careful next time. You understand?”

~~~

She felt his fingers kneading the muscles that stretched between her neck and shoulders. Occasionally, his strong, slender digits wriggled between the backrest and her body, to ease the tension in that spot in the middle of her shoulder-blades. She tried to focus on the fact that she was sore in all those spots because of the way he had tied her up. 

“Miscalculation in the serum you made, right?”   
She nodded slowly.   
He clicked his tongue and needled her,   
“Almost cost Emlyn her life.”   
Irritation flashed in her eyes.   
“Well, you did hurt me fo-”   
“Uh-uh.” He interrupted, wagging his finger in the periphery of her vision as he continued to roll her muscles with the creepy tenderness of a knowing hand.   
“You made me give you what you wanted.” 

She let him correct her in silence. She had agonised over so many things. The whole ordeal had led to some discoveries and conversations which took her a while to come to terms with.   
He whispered now and the cruelty he had spared her before, came slinking back.   
“You wanted me to go on because up until that point… It felt good didn’t it? And that was certainly not what you wanted.”   
He chuckled.   
“I’m not the only one we learned things about that night.”   
Her words killed the sound of his laugh abruptly.


	4. Ghost of the past.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared is hurt by Akira's callousness and almost loses control  
> The flashback adds gravitas to what it cost him to give her the penance she craved.  
>  _The voice in his head... The ghost of his past is here to haunt him._

She had involuntarily wiggled towards the backrest, partially because it relieved the tension in her back, partially because his massage objectively felt good. He manipulated such an accessible part of her anatomy with a knowing expertise that it was unfair to deny herself the simple pleasure. And given everything that her future held, were the simpler pleasures of the taunting flutter of his hands not worth cherishing? 

Just because he was drawing this out did not mean she had to hate it.  
But it did not even take a second after her casually biting retaliation for something to change.  
“I’m not the only one we learned things about that night.”  
She killed his snicker and something else. While she said it, it felt like a valid retaliation, he had made the first verbal jab after all. 

He really didn’t like her tone.  
Thumbs pressed into the nape of her neck; his fingers dug into the sides. The skin caught in between pinked, then whitened. Her face turned redder.  
She could hear the gush of blood in her ears, accentuated with every hard pulse.  
“Jar-”  
The supple skin was pulled so taut, it pressed against her larynx and cut her off.  
It saddened her… if this was it.  
He did not like her tone, but he was hardly aware of what he was doing. When his name broke in her call, it served as a warning. He let go. 

~~~

She still had her wrists cinched and her ankles secure, it was probably just to slow her down if she tried anything stupid again.  
She did not. She squirmed and made arguments in mumbles that slowly softened to a silence.  
Once she stilled and her breathing slowly steadied, he parted and lifted the curtain of tresses that covered her face. Exhaustion had cajoled her better than he could, or so he believed, and she had slipped into slumber. It was heart-warming to see her quiet features flaunt a modicum of peace again. 

Shira slept little, but at least she slept well.  
His fingers remained in her hair, unravelling the knots in the locks that lay pooled on his pillow.  
They’d never switched on the light, but just the faint light outside his window was enough for him to assess the damage. His lips contorted into a grimace that no one could see.  
He wanted to wait a bit longer before slipping off the makeshift bonds that held her. But he failed to account for his own lassitude.  
-  
Faint white curtains billowed like sails and flapped inwards. The night breeze had just enough nip to make itself felt.  
But he did not remember opening the window.  
Jared sat bolt upright. There was someone here.  
The faint silhouette sat cross-legged against the armchair.  
A passing vehicle created just the right splash of life through the slits of his blinds, for him to get a glimpse.  
_No. Not him._  
He got off the armchair and ambled towards the bed. Parts of him flitted in and out of recognition.  
The matted blonde, the casual stride, the distant eyes and that vague smirk.  
It was him; it was Nikolai.  
_It can’t be._  
Jared felt paralyzed. His body refused to follow the instructions of his mind.  
The pale finger found Jared’s lips.  
“Shhh… I just want the two of you awake, not the whole building ok?”  
Something flashed in the man’s hand, a blade. In a seamless motion the tip was against Akira’s neck.  
A part of her that Jared had just exposed when he drew away her dark hair.  
His scrutinising eyes flitted over her and lingered on the tie and belt.  
“Already prepped and ready, you’re always so good with that.”  
The blonde beamed, the dark-haired man’s jaw locked, he continued to watch in silence. 

“Hey, Shira… sweetheart?”  
Only Jared called her that. That drawl made Jared’s skin crawl. But now he had a reason not to move. One stab and he’d have no one left to protect.  
She stirred, eliciting soft sounds as wakefulness crept back into her.  
“Jared…”  
He looked at the one she called for and snickered.  
“He’s right here, love. Don’t worry, he’ll properly give you what you want.”  
She tossed so quickly; Nikolai couldn’t move the knife away fast enough.  
“Tch.”  
She winced, the welts on her back must’ve scraped against the sheets. Her conjoined arms flailed briefly before stilling. She looked up at the man Jared despised. Her doe-like eyes widened like they’d been caught in headlights.  
The flat of the knife sat against her lips now.  
“We’re all going to go sort you out properly, ok? Nod if you understand.”  
She nodded slowly.  
He undid the belt.  
“Let’s go.” 

Delicate wrists in cruel manacles. Sinewy arms stretched upwards, no longer tense, because they lacked the strength and the will to hold up the weight attached to them; her knees buckled too often for them to keep up.  
Bruises. Blood. Sweat. Tears.  
Nikolai hadn’t bothered to make the suited man strip her, those redundant theatrics had always been reserved for men – They both knew why.  
Most of her clothes were battered so badly, from the various implements that wore them down, they hung like wispy shreds on her frail body anyways.  
Silence, to whimper, to wails… to silence again.  
She seemed unconscious.

The only sound in the room was the suited man’s laboured breathing. A chain clinked against the floor as he let his hand drop, part of it was wrapped around his palm, his grip on it was tight, like he was clinging, not to weapon, but to his sanity.  
“Douse her.”  
Obediently, he reached for a pail.  
Cold water splashed against her indiscriminately wounded body.  
She sputtered and shivered. The ripples of the shudder were visible across her body, they brought with them gooseflesh. Her head remained hanging, her chin tucked into her neck, till Nikolai propped it up with the tip of the knife, offering aid with his fingers clutching at the strands of her hair.  
The suited man could see the reflection of her hollowed features in Nikolai’s eyes, she could see him too... 

“Good boy. Pity, it won’t be as easy to tell if our Shira is having fun or not.”  
Nikolai chuckled derisively.  
Jared was watching from outside a glass cage.  
Inside were two men: a blonde, a dark-haired lad in a suit and a black tie, and the damsel in distress. He could see the blonde, but only the backs of the other two. He couldn’t hear anything, but his lip-reading skills seemed spectacularly spot on.  
“You want more, yes? You deserve more? Tell him.”  
She nodded and turned towards the other man slowly.  
He banged against the transparent wall once he saw her. To no avail. 

Her voice was raspy, a hollow whisper that he could not hear.  
“Please, more…”  
The dark-haired lad turned too – It was him.  
Her face flickered and then morphed into the faces he wanted to forget. His reflection remained unflinching and impassive.  
Somewhere, a guffaw echoed.  
He punched at the glass till he bloodied it with the split knuckles. The glass did not break.  
-  
She was woken by something that sounded like a cry of an animal. Like a roar but filled with the remorse of a howling wolf, one that had just lost a pack member. It did not take her long to realise her arms and feet were still tied, but something far more pressing rattled her.  
Fists thumped the bed, the sheets were damp and crinkled in his tight grip.  
She sat up and undid the tie with her teeth, she did not bother with the belt and crawled onto Jared, she sat straddled across his stomach and patted his cheek. 

“Jared… JARED.”  
It took a moment for him to rouse.  
Panic struck eyes found her grim looking face. But other than the worry that marred it, it was so unblemished, like a pearl. His clammy fingers reached for her skin.  
Her hands closed over his and his arms wrapped around her.  
“I’m sorry.”  
She looked at him quizzically.  
He nuzzled into her gentle curls, burying his face into her neck.  
“No, I am… You look like you’ve seen a ghost, was it- was it because of me.”  
Yes, something like that. A very bad ghost of my past.  
He shook his head. It was easier lying without words. But it wasn’t entirely her fault and he didn’t want to hold her responsible.  
“Are you ok…? Do you want to talk about it?”  
She tried to pull him away, just so she could look into his eyes.  
He did not let her.  
“No and no…”  
-  
The breath she drew sounded like a soft wheeze, since it was involuntarily desperate.  
He rarely took things personally, but she had sounded so callous.  
“You just had to take that tone, didn’t you?”  
When she heard the disappointment, instinctively, something made her want to apologize. But she did not need to, given the predicament. 

“You never exactly told me about it…”  
She sounded a little forlorn. Despite the predicament she was in, she wanted to know, and it wasn’t just because she wanted some ammunition against him… But because she still cared. And she was still curious.  
“You found out enough on your own.”  
He sounded bitter.  
She did not reply, because she knew a lot more than he thought she did. Just not the precise details of what his nightmare held that day.  
“Time for a change in scenery. The show will have to wait.”  
Jared informed.


	5. Can't you see?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jared prepares to move Akira to a different room, the use of a blindfold sends them spiralling into a flashback of happier times... and the day that Akira was offered a birthday gift she craved so much. And one that he wished she had not accepted.

When he said change in scenery, he meant darkness for her. The cloth hung in front of her like a hammock, tethered to Jared’s clenched fists. She began shaking her head with a vehemence. Pipes. Lights. Camera. Boxes blurred into streaks behind the looming threat of the dark cloth. It remained in front of her stubbornly. He didn’t force things. He didn’t need to. They both knew the drill.   
“You know better than to waste your energy on pointless resistance, Akira.”  
He was still right behind her, but his voice sounded distant. Maybe because he called her Akira and not Shira.   
She balked at the mere thought of pleading with him over this, as though even considering it made her weak. She really wasn’t fond of blindfolds. Her body curled forward against the binds. She sighed and grudgingly conceded. Not out of obedience, but because he was right.   
He pulled the fabric against her eyes; it had enough length to be looped around her head a few times before the ends were knotted.   
“How many fingers am I holding up?” He joked wryly. 

~~~

“I don’t know! Three-four…? It’s too tight.”  
Her whining was playful, and it wasn’t loose, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was efficient. She contorted her face, to make some wiggle room. Crinkled her nose, raised her eyebrows and clenched her eyelids tighter… Just to try make some wiggle room.   
“Stop trying to get out of it!”  
He chided. She giggled.   
He waved his hand in front of her, to check if her ventures had succeeded.   
“Five! Stop waving at me, I cannot see… I can feel it though.”

He held her by her arms, guiding her off the couch and out of her room.   
The door closed behind them. The main corridor was cooler than the rooms. She tried to keep tabs on small details, like the change in the incline of the floor under them, the sounds of their footsteps. Unfortunately, spatial perception was not her strongest suit. So, as they coiled through the building, she could not really map their trajectory in her mind. 

“Where are we going?”  
“You say you love surprises, but really, you don’t. You want to know everything.”  
“That’s not true!”  
That was absolutely true. Both those things were. 

Her very fibre was woven out of contradictions. She knew this and Jared accepted it.   
He worried that the surprise wouldn’t be enough. It was too simple. He could only hope the effort counted for something. He never celebrated birthdays. It was an alien, archaic concept, and had only resurfaced recently. The other Biohackers sure seemed obsessed with it, with a vehemence. Akira was a budding biohacker, it mattered to her, so he did his best to make it matter to him.   
He opened the door and Aki could feel the trapped bodily heat as the door closed behind them. Even before the soft whispers and scuffling feet pricked her ears. And well before the chorus of   
“SURPRISE”

She beamed and played her part.   
“You guys! Thank you!”   
Various voices overlapped eagerly, to offer Jared credit. The gathering meant a lot to her, but she realised that it must have taken sincere effort to put together. The schedules of the special-ops squads and the biohackers were unusually difficult to coordinate.   
“It was more Nova really, I just… Had to get you from point A to point B.”   
Nova dismissed his words, and her hands replaced Jared’s as Akira was ushered deeper into the room. 

Jared clung to the corners.   
He was heralded a hero, but there were still those who had not forgiven him. Incidental victims of the heinous crimes against humanity he had to commit in the line of duty.   
Most regarded him with cold, wary admiration. Rightfully so. He had long since befriended his loneliness. So, he did not budge, despite Akira’s plaintive non-verbal beckons.   
She gave up eventually and was soon lost in the throes of the party. 

Frivolities and laughter commenced. Even he was not immune to the fervent joy of the moment.   
Exhausted and slightly tipsy, she tiptoed her way back to him, she pressed her head to his chest and he habitually locked his arm around her.   
He tipped her chin upwards, they stood forehead to forehead, gently swaying to the music.   
♩… Am I out of my head?  
Am I out of my mind?   
If you only knew the bad things, I like…♩

She smirked, and batted her eyelids playfully. Her grin was infectious. It was just them again.   
“You want something more, don’t you?”   
His question was more to confirm what he could already see. Jared caught that glint in her eye. Something that let him know that while she loved the people and the party, she was ready to be just them again.   
She was indeed in a mood to be his again. The blindfold and theatrics had left her yearning for more than just a surprise, something private, something just for them.   
She quickly confirmed as much,   
“So much more and so many more things. I missed you.” 

He could tell that she wished for him to have enjoyed the party less vicariously, but she did not press the issue. Her lips split wider to reveal rows of imperfectly perfect teeth. A peal of soft, giggles chimed in the air between them. She was so unabashed about her insatiability.   
Jared shook his head with a soft sigh. Would anything ever be enough?   
But he felt indulgent. He plucked out the blindfold from his pocket.  
“Trust me to take you back the way I got you here, then?”   
Her eyes darted between him and the cloth with a delectable anticipation. She nodded. 

Unfortunately, their plans were interrupted. It was so rarely that she got to see Jared without the curtain of his usual brooding, she should have known it could not last long.   
Jared noticed Scarlett approach with Mark at her heels.   
The woman bore bad news, he could tell. Additionally, she did not seem happy about having to track down her agents.   
“Just a second.”   
The party did not deserve whatever bombshell Scarlett was about to drop, not like this. He took the lead on interrupting her. Maybe he could filter the news, soften the blow if it was too urgent and had to be shared immediately. 

Akira’s eyes dazedly followed his steps as he left the room and continued to through the glass panels that lined the hall until they lead up to the older duo. Scarlett’s fire-stormy tresses, her regal form contrasted so sharply with the paler, seemingly meeker Mark. She always marvelled at the contrast between the duo. She noticed something was wrong only when she saw Jared’s form betray signs of exasperation; hands in his hair, deep exhales that left his unusually upright stance, slightly bowed.   
She was compelled to follow suit. So, she crept out. The party had not noticed Jared’s absence, or the looming presence of their leaders, hopefully they wouldn’t miss her either. 

“What’s going on?”  
“Shir- Akira, go back inside. I’ll just be a min-”  
Scarlett and Mark exchanged pleasant looks. Jared stood in stark contrast.   
“Actually, there is something we’d like to run by you, Akira.”   
It was Mark who cut Jared off, in a quiet voice. The kind that no one is compelled to interrupt.   
“The Quantum Brigade took over another operation centre. We think it is time to retaliate.”   
“We don’t have the numbers,” Jared interjected, hopelessly. He rarely cared for arguments. But he knew where this was leading.   
Mark looked at him with a clinical curiosity as he and Scarlett continued laying the crumbs for Akira.   
She thought they simply wanted to test her on the obvious.   
“You’ll are infiltrators. You will infiltrate, correct?”  
Akira barely associated herself with the Spectral Syndicate. The infiltrators were a special class of their own. She knew she was underqualified.  
Scarlet pinned Akira with a dryly enticing gaze.   
“Correct.”

Jared didn’t like the look Scarlett had in her eye. The look of a recruiter.   
No, not today.   
“It has come to our attention, that they’ve got feelers out for Biohackers trainees. They seem to be lacking in that department.”  
“I’ll do it!”  
Mark offered a bemused chuckle. They were so right about her.  
“You’re not even qualified,” Jared said with a hurtful arrogance. He hoped it would deter Akira, but she was lost in the heady trance of an adventurous future.  
“Exactly,” the two women said, in unison.   
Mark nodded and then slunk away in the shadows. Scarlett lingered long enough to drive the offer home.   
“A chance to serve, is a truly wonderful gift. Happy twenty-first hun.”  
Her sultry voice raked Jared and it was music to Akira.  
Scarlett’s fingers found the cheek of her newest recruit. She patted encouragingly before sauntering away. Mark’s pace slowed so Scarlett may catch up and they could walk away in stride.

Jared’s Shira, now reeked of an eagerness he wished he could thwart.   
“It’s brilliant actually…”  
Subconsciously, they found themselves walking towards Akira’s room. He was glad she did not turn around to make any announcements to the others and that they could think things through privately. Her mind seemed made up already.   
“See, we’ll learn more about the focus of their training methods, when it comes to us Biohackers…”   
The silence between them, which was usually comfortable, felt oppressive. Akira was taking it upon herself to fill it.   
“… I’m still training, I’ll learn more about their training methods.”  
His disapproval was palpable, and she attempted battling it with belligerence. He wanted her to stop. With every word she took away Jared’s chance at getting her to reconsider.  
“And since I’m not qualified yet, worst case scenario, I’m caught out. It’s not like we’d be losing much.”

Her words were not driven from a place of insecurities. Ironically, she felt too optimistic to colour things that way. It was a simple objective derivation, one that would have suited Jared’s usual line of logic perfectly, if this did not involve her. Disgruntled, he pocketed his hands and felt the sash and was reminded of its promise. Perhaps…   
“…What could go wrong?”  
She chirped.   
So much could go wrong.   
His hand tugged at her wrist, gently. He held up the sash in front of her face.   
Like a hammock of silken darkness.   
“Still up for this?” His question was tentative.   
She turned to look at him over her shoulder with exaggerated coyness. She winked and pressed her face into the fabric.   
His offer only enhanced the moment, it felt like a fitting end to a wonderful celebration. 

~~~

She did not answer and instead licked her drying lips.   
He watched her for a moment, the flick of her tongue, a trait they shared when they needed to bolster their courage.  
He ducked to undo the ankle-binds.   
If she were to walk, she wasn’t to see… Nothing was given without a price.   
His fingers traced the raw lines left by the twine. He could not tell if it was out of fascination, or a practiced concern, he hoped the gesture exposed neither. The light pink lines graced her like temporarily tattooed anklets.   
Her legs jerked upwards involuntarily at the touch. The attention of his digits made her keenly aware of the itchy sear, uncomfortable, but bearable.   
He pulled away just in time to avoid getting kneed in the chin.   
She rubbed her ankles together and quickly got up. 

“Someone’s eager,” he joked.   
“I guess I’ve finally learned to favour efficiency.”   
Her voice was slowly losing the airy lightness. He knew and she knew why.   
“Arguable,” he retaliated, with a shrug.   
She had long since accepted that her tendency towards exploring distractions, naturally disrespected time, but it often drew attention to details that others missed. His jab hurt much lesser than it once would have.  
“So, it begins, huh?”  
Her voice did not sound as casual as her words.   
He took his place behind her; his guiding grip was unrelentingly tight.   
She grimaced and drew in a sharp breath as his fingers sunk into the groove of her biceps.   
“So, it begins. No funny business, okay?”   
There were reasons she hated blindfolds and she had a feeling that as her time as his captive swelled, she would find cause to relive more of them. 

How far things had devolved. How trustingly she had let him guide her once and now there was hesitance in every step. He was forced to nudge her each time she felt something and paused on instinct.   
She’d always been sensitive to auditory and olfactory stimuli, she believed this was because her untamed soul grew up in the wild. When the sense of sight is stolen, one learns to quickly and keenly develop the others. Alas, she still was not spatially sound. She did realise that they never left the building, which meant that she could be in an establishment of some sort. Unless he was looping back to the same room, did that mean that there was more than one room here equipped in a manner that suited Jared’s course of action? He always had a plan.


	6. Bound by choice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared tries offering a gift of his own to try make Akira see reason, to help her understand the perils of her undertaking.   
> Small demonstrations and a little bit of role-playing ought to work?   
> It doesn't. Akira is resolute in her decision.

A metal door was opened, its hinges creaked. Not the same door, this was a different room.   
She drew in a breath, and it smelled different too, damper. Though she could not see, the warm trapped air perpetuated a sense of claustrophobia. This felt like a smaller room.   
Subconsciously, she instantly wanted out. Instinct won and she turned away from it, towards him. 

He’d been firm in the way he manoeuvred her, but not unkind. Not so far. He shoved her backwards with a certain violence. His push, coupled with the inability to see, had her tripping.  
He almost reached out to catch her, but did not. He was glad that she did not see. 

She fell, ass-first. Her tied hands broke the fall.   
There were pieces of glass beneath her. It was fine enough to not cut through fabric.   
But it did scratch her arms and palms.   
“Careful… The previous inhabitant was prone to breaking things,” he said wryly.   
Her hands were streaked crimson, a cursory glance let him know that the cuts were not too deep.   
Regardless, he had to fight the urge to tend to them. He noticed a piece missing from the floor. 

She sighed and wriggled onto her knees and then crouched to stand. She clenched her fists, squeezing a drop of blood into the crease, the piece of glass remained wedged between her palms. Her arms were still bound, but maybe with this… 

He closed in on her, his proximity was enough for her to back up. More glass crunched under her as she ventured in backwards. He crowded her; into the spot he wanted her in.   
Her back was against the wall. The surface was damp, she could feel the moisture. The back of her hand skimmed it with an exploratory interest... and found a chain. A thick iron collar hung from the chain. Though she did not get a chance to feel that. She was unceremoniously turned to face the wall as Jared lifted the medieval device, wedged it open and slipped it over her slender neck.   
The smell of rust permeated her lungs.   
Her mind drifted to a very different clink of a very different collar… That birthday night after the celebrations and the offer. 

~~~

He’d changed course and led her back to his room instead of her own.   
She eagerly waited for the blindfold to come off. It did not.   
He led her to the carpet in front of his couch.   
The textile was slightly abrasive.  
She felt his hands press on her shoulders gently, coaxing her to kneel, facing the seat. She allowed it and sat back on her heels.   
“Don’t move.”   
The commanding nature of his voice was truly rare and so precious.   
“Mhmm.”   
“This is what you wanted right? For me to… take the lead?”  
She could hear him rummaging for things. She wasn’t sure exactly how to respond. He didn’t sound light-hearted as she’d expected. Which made her pout, at the void since he wasn’t looking at her.   
I can do intense!   
“Something like this… yes. Can I see you?”  
“No.”  
“Well, I can make requests right?”  
Her question was a little tentative this time, she was trying to establish rules for her for him to make her follow.  
“No, not really.”  
There was some dry humour in his voice, which was pleasing. Apparently, he did not really need the help. Not that that realization stopped her. Her breathing grew slightly shallow with anticipation. She could not believe this was happening.  
“Do you want me to like… call you sir or something?”  
Jared paused. It rarely took him long to find things, he was very organised. But she was distracting and delaying this makeshift arrangement.   
“Do you want to?”  
“I thought I didn’t get to make requests…”  
She teased, he huffed.   
“Touché. You’re right. Go ahead. Call me sir, let’s see how long that lasts.”

Shira had a painful disregard for hierarchy. He did not mind and luckily most in SpecSyn usually didn’t either. But that was not going to sit well if she went through with her stint at the Quantum Brigade. The reminder left him rejuvenated. He had to get her to see reason somehow. 

“Will you punish me if I don’t?”  
Her sing-song voice lingered in the room. She was so blissfully unaware of the whirring gears in Jared’s mind. She taunted with abandon, still riding the high of the celebrations and the offer.  
He looked at her in time to see the smirk split her lips again and shook his head. He was glad that she couldn’t see him. Then, she would have recognized his ulterior motive. He could see that on some level, this was manipulative and exploitative… But it really was for her own good.   
“At this point, I’ll punish you if you keep talking. Do you want me to gag you?”

She wasn’t fond of blindfolds, but she hated gags with a passion.   
“See you tell me not to talk, but then you ask me a question, so what is it you want, sir?”  
He thought had a good idea of how arrangements liked these worked, in theory anyway. He had never envisioned taking on this role in such a capacity.   
He reiterated the rules she had wangled out of him.   
“You call me sir, stop asking me questions, stop making requests and I won’t gag you. OK? Ok.”  
He answered his own question and didn’t give her a chance to interject this time.

Upon finding the things he was looking for, Jared collected everything he wanted. Drawers were closed, cupboards were shut and she could hear his footfall grow closer again. He sat on the couch facing her. She was close enough to be within his reach. He tousled her hair.   
“You did a good job of staying still.”  
“Am I going to be rewa-”  
His fingers walking up her collarbones and to her neck made her fall silent. He fumbled with something thin and metallic till it clinked shut around her elegant neck. She recognized it.   
“I-is that what I think it is?”  
He hummed and did not reply. Jared reached over her, like enveloping her in an embrace, she leaned against him, offering more access.   
A pair of matching cuffs cinched her wrists together.  
Her breathing quickened. Both the cuffs and the collar were capable of shocking her. He wasn’t messing around.  
“Don’t worry. I won’t use it…”  
He promised, and she believed him.  
Grudgingly he reached for the prod-baton. He placed it against the crook of her neck.   
She sat up straighter. These tools at his disposal were a lot more domineering than she had expected.

“Sticks and stones, huh?”  
She asked softly.  
The baton glided over parts of her, as though wielded by someone absent—which Jared was most certainly not. He pressed it against her acnestis, somewhere just above the small of her back.   
“Bow.”  
She resisted.  
“Pfft. What, like you are god or something, sir?”   
“Shira…” he warned, tiredly.   
“What? I didn’t say I’ll make it easy!”  
He struck the side of her arm, not too hard, but it was likely to bruise a little.   
She almost lost balance but caught herself in time.   
He could see her face contort in a wince and was amazed that despite it being sudden, she didn’t make any sound. She exhaled slowly, like she was taking the time to make friends with the pain.   
“Ow.”  
She spoke, that was not a reaction. There was defiance dripping from the syllable.

“We try again?”  
He sighed and pressed down again, she still resisted. He struck the other arm, with the same measured force. She hissed and her exhale this time was a soft whistle. Then she laughed and explained her decision to remain disobedient.   
“Sorry, I’m a sucker for symmetry and I know you are too.”  
He rolled his eyes. It felt cruel to make this more serious than it had to be, but he had a goal.  
When he pressed against her again, she let her spine curl forward and flattened her chest against her thighs. 

“Shira… Do you know what happens when the enemy truly finds you?”  
She drew a ragged breath; her forehead was against the floor.   
So we’re roleplaying.  
“You can’t help but make this a lesson can you?”  
She didn’t sound disappointed, she was merely stating facts.  
“I suppose we can no longer afford to stop training you, can we?”  
He wasn’t convinced by his own words, but he could see her literally swell with pride. She was lapping up any indication that reminded her of her impending relevancy.   
Slightly frustrated, he got up to grab a cigarette  
When she heard the lighter click and the air carried the dregs of the smoke, she sat up and stiffened.  
He thought she was triggered, which left him feeling hollow and haunted. 

Then, she did something odd. She tilted her head, exposing the unscarred side of her neck.   
“Symmetry?”  
She asked, in a way that made it impossible to know if she was joking or not. Jared wished she was.   
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”  
She was… so unpredictable.  
“Or maybe, we can leave that for later. It can be a sample for the next training batch. The shock value should work well on the new rookies, I promise, I act well!”  
She twittered, relishing the idea of playing assistant in that capacity.   
He took a long drag.   
She still doesn’t even take the training seriously.   
“If we get any…” he replied with a certain sadness, it was getting harder to recruit candidates.   
“We will!” she exclaimed with her unusual optimism. Nothing could bring her down today.   
“I don’t remember saying that you could sit up, Shira.”  
She felt like testing his boundaries, to push a little, but the last time she’d done that, he went to war with some demon of his past in his nightmares. Demons he would not talk to her about. She did not want to be shut out. If he was willing to explore this side with her, she decided that she’d have to be a little gentle too. She folded against herself again. Arms behind her, head buried between slightly parted knees and her forehead inches away from the floor.

He sat down again and methodically tapped the baton against the floor.   
There was silence, except the baton’s tap. He contemplated a more straight-forward approach.   
“Shira… Do you lov-like me, or this?”  
“Do I have permission to speak, sir?”  
“Yes!”   
He rolled his eyes at the theatrics; it reminded him of someone who would have loved it, a ghost.   
“I love you because you’re you. You’ve… done whatever it took in the face of terrible odds… Sir.”  
The way she emphasized love did leave him feeling warm. It was an alien feeling.   
“Do you love me more like this though? Does it change anything between us?”  
She didn’t respond immediately. She could not deny that she liked the concept of being able to surrender to someone like him. Someone who could drive her to be the best she could be. That she could crave the discipline he could offer… Was that wrong? 

“Shira?”  
“I… I can’t deny I envy you for your drive, I wish you could… share that somehow. Sir”  
He narrowed his eyes; it was easy to extrapolate her expectations. It did not leave him any real agency.   
“So, this would be entirely for you. My wishes don’t really matter.”   
She could hear the bite in his voice. Instead of allaying her, it only sparked an acerbic retaliation.   
“If you’d ever make your wishes known, maybe they would!”   
Though it hurt, he did not feel any anger towards her. She was right. He had rarely been afforded chances where his wishes mattered. The choices he made were rarely his. They were a product of an unfortunate situation. 

“Fine. I wish for you to not take their offer.”   
He folded his hands.   
That was unexpected. She should’ve seen it coming but she’d been woefully ignorant all this time. That added to her rankled state.   
“What? You know I can’t do-”  
She started to get back up. He put his foot on her. She wanted assertion, he felt very inclined to give it to her.   
“Just to be clear, my wishes don’t matter then?”   
She wriggled under him.   
“They do! But why the fuck would you want me to give up my shot at glory? Do you want to be the only hero or something?”   
The nerve. She was so juvenile sometimes.  
“You think that’s what this is about?” 

He reached for the controls that allowed her to use the implements and dialled them up. High enough to hurt, low enough to avoid permanent damage.   
A cry rose in her throat and muscles strained from the shock, killing the sound.   
Her arms and spine straightened with a tense contractility as the buzz of electricity surged within her, ever so briefly.   
This was not out of anger. This was to make a point.   
The electricity left and it left her limp. He held her by her hair. Jared was glad he could not see her eyes. He could wager the world that they looked right about murderous right now. 

“You promi-”  
He pinched her face in a grip that interrupted her.   
“Remember, I asked what would happen if you got caught, Shira? This. They won’t play by the rules.”   
She struggled against him, mostly so she could get her words out.   
“I’ll just…”   
“What… swallow some carefully hidden serum? You think they’re not smart enough to look for it.”   
His fingers probed her mouth, to drive the point home.   
“Everywhere,” he emphasized. The thought of other fingers in other places darkened his own thoughts. 

He shoved her away. She fell to her side, with a thud and tried to sit upright again.   
Crouching over her curled form, he kept her down with his arm pressed against her bruising side.   
“You won’t be kneeling for me, Shira, or someone you know and like, it won’t be like training.”  
He spoke through grit teeth. How could she not see what lay ahead? How could she just allow them to throw her into the deep end like this?   
Something about her mannerism softened, she stopped fighting and just lay there as he painted a grim picture, with the ink of fear.   
She could hear the concern now and felt petulant for thinking his intent was rooted in holding her back. His jarring reminder did serve its purpose. She realised how real things could get and bile rose in her throat. Her heart fluttered at all the hypotheticals that streaked through her mind, it left her nauseous. 

“It won’t be fun and games.”  
He reiterated. He could see the effect of his words as her skin paled. He eased up.   
She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist and with surprising strength, toppled him to lay beside her on the carpet.   
He did not counter her move as they tangled into one another. He sighed and cradled her head with his arm. His frustration could not carry him through this.   
“No… I know it won’t be…”   
Akira steeled herself and replied. She threw herself against him, still cuffed and still blindfolded. She hoped her body could radiate the reassurance she wanted to couple with her words.   
“So, I’m going to need all the help I can get. I promise to take the intensive training seriously and we’ll just have to hope that it won’t come to any of that...”

He hid his face in the crook of his elbow. There was no winning against her. Not without squandering her very sense of being. Not without telling her that those outcomes are often the certainties and success is the outlier event.   
“If they have come to me, my Red Knight… Clearly they’re running out of options.”   
As appealing to his sense of duty almost always worked. Today, it still left him uneasy.   
He could see he had lost though. She was not going to budge. The only course of action was for her to work hard. 

“You’re going to be wishing you didn’t take the offer when the intensive training actually begins, Shira.”   
There was a promise there, but it was not a threat. He’d just have to see how far her sheer will could carry her. He flicked her nose playfully and undid the blindfold.   
“Congratulations, I guess. And Happy twenty-first...”   
Acceptance was still hard.  
“Yay? Sir?” She grinned.   
“You’re one baffling vixen, I’ll give you that.”   
In a fell swoop, he picked her off the floor and took her to his bed. The cuffs and collar were still in place.   
“Is training starting now?” she grinned.   
“You bet,” he replied, only half-joking.   
The thunderous storm that brewed between them, only left a drizzle. 

~~~

This collar felt heavy against her shoulders. She instinctively pulled against it to check its give and the length of the chain.   
He nudged the back of her knees with his own to make her legs buckle. Falling onto her knees hurt, she groaned through grit teeth. At least there was no glass under her here, thankfully. Resigned, she sat down on her ankles. 

She heard something being twisted next to her, like a faucet.   
The chain attached to the collar began rolling backwards into the wall. It first pulled Akira upwards, forcing her back onto her knees. The chain continued to reel till her face was flush against the wall.   
Satisfied, he left and closed the door behind him. She was alone with her thoughts. Solitude beckoned tears and for the first time she was glad for the blindfold. She let out a soft growl of frustration and began chafing at the twine holding her wrists with the piece of glass she had retrieved from the floor. It was hard, given the angle of her body. But she needed something to do, to feel like she was trying.


	7. Dark pillow talk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira is left alone and as the seconds chafe at her, she surrenders to her memories yet again.  
> The flashback offers the tender close for the birthday night. The pillow talk that follows helps Jared acknowledge the glaring difference in their experiences with suffering and the starker difference in the way they approach it.

The freedom of her upper limbs came at the price. A few more crimson scratches against the raw, twine-irritated skin. The torment of rolling around on her knees as her back contorted awkwardly to accomplish the task within the given limitations.  
But success felt heavenly. Her arms snapped away from one another when the twine finally came undone. With a manic urgency, she plucked off the blindfold. The cloth wrapped around her eyes had never curtailed her breathing, but getting rid of it left her panting with relief.

The only source of illumination was soft and painfully consistent, it crawled in from under the metal door to shatter against the broken glass and to lick at her feet. That felt like a gift for now.  
For some time, her freed arms and restored vision tasted like a small victory. For some time, she remained still and poised, clinging to the piece of glass with a fervent hope. Then, the seconds and minutes began chafing at her resolve. Slowly but surely. The fluidity of time was not assessable. Staring at a piece of wall was not conducive to keeping track of the hours.

There was not so much as a scuffle outside. She felt forgotten. First, she dropped the glass, then she got fidgety. Two ritualistic, alternating motions. She craned her neck to flatten her cheek against the wall, right side… then left, her vision oscillating between the corner… and the dark despair of the room. And the painstaking transfer of her weight, from her knees to her haunches.  
This went on long enough to leave her neck and shoulder muscles begging for mercy and her leg muscles twitching with the strain. 

As her resolve slowly melted, fear eagerly took its place. The exchanges with Jared had left her mind steeping in the past. It felt like a deliberate concoction. And now he had left her alone to brew. She could not fight the thoughts as they gathered and strategically battered against the flimsy walls of her brain.  
She followed the string of memories, brought to the surface by a slightly broken voice echoing in the room… It was her own, it sounded angelic somehow. She closed her eyes in surrender.  
“♩ _“…Am I out of my head  
Am I out of my mind...”_♩  
~~~  
♩ _"…If you only knew the bad things I like…"_ ♩  
She grinned up at him as she sang along with the song he played. It was the one from the party, before they were interrupted. It sure felt appropriate. They’d consummated their relationship already, on multiple occasions, but the air today, felt differently charged. She used her elbows to slide backwards onto his bed, till her head found his pillow. He crawled over her on his elbows and knees, watching her protectively. She loved that he was concerned, but she felt the pressing need to prove that she was stronger than he thought. 

His lips found the scar he had left on her neck, his tongue flicked across it, tenderly.  
“Bite me.”  
♫ _…Don't think that I can explain it…_ ♫  
He obliged, sucking her skin into his mouth, he teased it with his teeth.  
“Harder.”  
♫ _…What can I say, it's complicated…_ ♫  
Curiosity and hesitance danced in his mind as his jaw tightened.  
A soft gasp morphed into a softer mewl.  
He let go. The scar had a perfect row of teeth-marks above and below it. He stared at it, it left him disconcerted.  
He looked at her. She looked incandescent, excited… ecstatic and bold. All the good things.  
As he tentatively nipped at her arm, sedulous about the force.  
She suddenly let out a cry of mock anguish. He snapped away from her.  
“Did I hur-”  
Her snicker, interrupted him. Something about her soft cackle sent a chill down his spine.  
“Of course, you did! But I liked it.”  
The cuffs dug into her as she stretched her arms instinctively, she felt like pulling him into an embrace. Aki made do with her legs instead, wrapping them around his hips to draw him back to her.  
“Fuck, Shira.”  
He chastised through grit teeth. It only made her laugh some more.  
“What? I like scaring people a little.”  
She beamed up at him with faux innocence.  
He shook his head and half-smiled, nervously stifling his unease, as he lowered himself against her again. 

♫ _…Nothing's that bad If it feels good  
So you come back Like I knew you would…_ ♫  
She nuzzled into his neck, leaving a small bite-mark of her own. She could feel his eyelashes against her shoulders, he did not even wince. Something about that left her feeling challenged. She picked another spot and bit a little harder. He closed his eyes and tensed but did not flinch. He let her finish, he even let her scan her handiwork as he propped himself on his elbows, his face looming over hers. The disquietude found words.  
“You like… hurting people too?”  
She tensed. His question sounded impassive, but she felt judged, nonetheless.  
“Sorry.”  
“No… It is ok. I’m fine.”  
That was not a very convincing reassurance.  
She gnawed at her lower lip. Feeling a certain surge of insecurities, she sought to assuage them by hoping this was a shared trait. 

Her voice carried with it a note of dread, and of anticipation.  
“Too? Do you?”  
“No, not really… I mean… Do you like scaring and hurting too?”  
“I…”  
Her face was like a play. Emotions battling desires, battling her morals. 

He placed his fingers on her lips and wore a brighter smile. Jared had no intentions of creating turmoil within her, not today… not after everything. They needed each other.  
“Shh…”  
She kissed his fingers, her tongue now flicking across the scar she had left.  
“Am I a bad person?”  
Depends, he thought. But ardently shook his head. He reached over to his bedside drawer. With a press of a button the collar and the cuffs clicked open. He whisked them off the bed.  
They found amusement in the way the fell, symbolic of their own inhibitions. They laughed.  
The moment her wrists were free, her hands worked on the buttons of his shirt.  
His hands made quick work of her little black dress with the classic ripping sound.  
Her motion, inspired by his urgency, left buttons scattered around them as she held the collar and tugged it apart.  
Fabric rustled, bared passion and bared bodies followed.  
-  
Later that night, the empty cups of tea sat huddled on the bedside drawer.  
The silence between them embraced a very different song.  
♫ _…Love of mine, someday you will die…_ ♫  
It crooned the spooning couple; she sang along in a low octave. He joined in. They could feel the vibrations through the contact between his chest and her back.  
♩… _“But I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark”…_ ♩  
“Will you?”  
Her fingers were entwined with his, she gave a little squeeze to emphasize her question, which followed the song.  
_Will you, follow me into the dark?_.  
“I’ll be there before you, so you’ll be the one following!”  
He chided, pulling her closer. They breathed in sync and inhaled deeply. Satisfied sighs mingled.  
She elbowed him gently, with a small click of her tongue.  
“Always the hero.”

Jared wasn’t the insecure sort, but revelations today had left him perturbed and he knew she would eventually have to go away. So, today he too, wanted to ask.  
“Will you?”  
She pulled her hair to the side as she twisted to look at him. She didn't think of darkness as death. She saw it something to explore and something to challenge. And something that Jared had already encountered and won against.  
“I kinda am, already… Aren’t I? But my darkness, my turn!”  
He much rather wished that she could follow him into the light. Not that he had luck finding light. He did find it in her, and now she was insistently trying to test it. Test her own light, till that darkness won out.  
She was still basking in her chance at glory. There was nothing that could keep her mind away from that future for too long. He wanted nothing more than to bury it. Jared’s fingers idle shapes on her back, doodling his way out of the instinct to ask her to not take up the offer, again. She turned to face him completely, his hand lay across her, with a heavy laziness. 

Akira’s curious eyes pinned him with an odd question.  
“How the hell do you have such a high tolerance, by the way?”  
She had always secretly admired his endurance; it’d seem they weren’t exaggerating when there was talk of it among the BioHackers. It was thrown around as an analogy: ‘It is very difficult to endure this procedure… Unless you’re Jared or something.’  
♫ _…Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule  
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black…_ ♫  
He was amused by the lyrics that underpinned her question.  
“Practice.”  
There was some pride in his monosyllabic response, but it was wrapped in resigned discomfort. 

He believed it to be among the biggest distinguishing factors between them… Their cumulative experiences.  
“Like… in The System and stuff?’’  
Her macabre fascination with suffering, even his, left him a little speechless. He could tell from the falter in her whisper, that she was terrified of broaching the territories he avoided with a vehemence. And yet she did it anyway.  
He swallowed and stayed patient.  
“Yes.”  
♫ _…And I held my tongue as she told me,  
Son, fear is the heart of love…_♫  
“Was that it?”  
She was sheepish in her ask and knew it wasn’t and he wasn’t ready to elaborate.  
It did lead him to a realization. His compromise with pain and darkness, started young and it happened circumstantially. Then things spiralled and he was forced to befriend suffering as it became a blanket for his cause. It was a relationship that bore the test of time and in some way, became his one sole companion. Life happened and he survived. Until now.  
That was the other pressing distinction between them.  
She… sought this darkness. One way or another. She was jumping into an inferno, having never played with the flicker of a candle flame. That would mean she’d have no coping mechanisms in place to deal with the monster in front of her. There was no leashing that suffering once it found her, and it inevitably would if she kept looking for it. It would wrest all the control and snatch away the ground she stood on.  
That is what he believed anyway.  
Should he then provide the flickering flame and the hearth? Is that what she wanted, is that what drew her to him? Could he teach her what she needed to learn if she were so set on this path? 

“Never mind…”  
Akira whispered when her question was met with a pressing silence. She turned away again and closed her eyes.  
“What?”  
He asked absently, his thoughts had consumed him so entirely, he forgot the question they were borne out of. He recalled the conversation quickly enough, without needing another prompt.  
“You know there is more… Shira”  
He sounded stilted. 

♫ _…Soles of your shoes are  
Are all worn down… _♫  
She half-sung and half-hummed along with the song as it tapered to its end. She stretched and curled her toes, twisting to fit in the mould he made… Stolen covers, shared skin.  
She let her better judgement win and did not push the issue, unless he felt like divulging more himself.  
He did not.  
♫ _…The time for sleep is now…_ ♫  
“But it’s all in the past now. You should get some rest, ‘Jared didn’t let me sleep’ won’t be an acceptable excuse to slip at training.” 

_~~~_

♩ _…But it's n-nothing to cry about…_ ♩”  
With the memories, her songs followed too. Holding notes while holding herself up was hard, but it was worth the effort as the trill hung poignantly in the room. The words only drew the tears that clung to her lashes, she ensured they didn’t fall and streak the grime her cheeks had collected off the walls. 

There was a constant tug of impatience as he paced and waited for it to be long enough. A part of Jared was eager to get back. He couldn’t put a finger on why. What was he expecting to really resolve now? Time needed to soften her, so he could get on with business. This wasn’t something he’d struggled with before; this was the easiest part of interrogations he’d conducted in the past.  
But then, she wasn’t just any captive. Maybe it was time he came to terms with that. Objectivity would be harder to use as an anchor. But perhaps, that was his edge. 

So, he fell prey to his impatience. Shuffling back to her holding cell.  
He heard her voice and it made him stop in his track. It was not just any song either… It had a firm spot in their playlist.  
His hand teetered over the latch as he waited.  
♩ _“….'Cause we'll hold each other s-soon”…_ ♩  
It was sung slower than the original, giving it a beautifully eerie tone.  
Something rattled behind her. She fell silent and snatched the piece of glass off the floor.  
The door creaked open, he blocked most of the the light that pooled in, the bit that leaked past acted like an ambient spotlight on Akira.  
He remained by the threshold.  
“You know that song is special, by all means do finish…”  
She held the piece tightly enough to peel the scab and freshen the cut. Her breath hitched as she quickly blinked away the tears.  
No, I can’t show weakness.  
The lyric was too perfect, it longed to grace the moment. Who was she to stop them…  
“♩ _…I-in the blackest of rooms..._ ♩” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use the songs:  
> Bad Things - Machine Gun Kelly, Camilla Cabello  
> I'll follow you into the dark - Death Cab for Cutie  
> To anchor this post.


	8. Lesson learned?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The threat of a cane, reminds the duo of a disciplinary consequence that Jared could not deliver, simply because the nature of their relationship and Akira's coveting of pain evoked reactions in her that were inappropriate.   
> The delivery of the consequence felt imperative, since it followed a choice Akira made. One that she thought to be noble and he saw as insubordination.   
> So she was thrown to the wolves... A wolf in particular - Scarlett.   
> And though Akira's threshold was tested, the lesson that was taught, wasn't really learned.

She was really hoping that they would send someone else to check-up on her. She had been hoping against hope that Jared was through with her. Her plans would not work on him. She was kneeling again and stayed still as a statue. It was bad enough that she had allowed herself to be swindled into finishing the song upon request.   
She knew that she could have tried setting a more elaborate ruse to fool him. Tactically cut a few strands of the thin, rough rope, but left enough for him to think she was still incapacitated. Maybe then, if he closed the distance, she could break free and catch him with the element of surprise. It was all still a big maybe, but at least it would have been better than it being so apparent. 

He applauded, a slow clap for the slow finish of the song.   
The words and the haunting quality of her voice evoked dregs of the very same memories that she had surrendered herself to moments ago. They left him feeling bitter… sweet. He did not want to admit the latter, not even to himself. Not after everything.   
As expected, she had used the glass to set herself free, poorly. 

The tip of something thin, hard and smooth ran over the scabs formed on the cuts that she had left on herself. He clicked his tongue. He did not need words to relay that he was disappointed in her lacking skills. He still felt responsible for her, though that certainly did not transcend into his mannerisms. He was actively trying to write her off. 

“Like you care… any more,”   
she whispered against the wall. Her time alone had brought to surface a raw indignation and she could not help but counter his non-verbal assessment.   
“I didn’t really expect better. You were always impatient and imprecise. I suppose I could cut you some slack. The chain had you pulled up too close. Let me get that for you.”   
The way he made excuses for her, felt more insulting than the blatant criticism he had begun with. She obviously could not see that those were excuses to assuage his own, perceived inadequacy.   
He turned the valve and the chain unwound. She was finally allowed to peel away from the wall and she instantly fell backwards. She caught herself in time and instead of sprawling onto the floor, she sat on her heels. 

He tapped the cane against the ground again.  
“Encore?”   
“You really want me to sing? Make me.”  
“You think I can’t?”   
He rolled the cane between his forefinger and thumb.   
“I think you ended up needing some… assistance the last time you tried with that. So, I’ll take my chances.”  
She looked over her shoulder and their eyes locked onto one another. 

~~~

“I… I don’t think this is working.”  
He wasn’t sure if he was not intense enough, if this was just the way she reacted to pain… But he knew the intent of the act was certainly not coming through.   
The cane clattered against the floor.   
She winced at those words more than she had let herself through the process of having her rear welted.   
Aki was a tough one to pin down. She often operated on her own terms and lacked consistency in her efforts. This became evident soon after she was officially recruited as an infiltrative agent for SpecSyn, on the morn after her birthday. Scarlett and Mark had grown a little dismissive, but their faith didn’t wilt enough to pick a different candidate. They could see she had potential.   
So, no one had taken issue with Jared adopting the role of a furnace to temper Shira. Especially when she began showing progress. He had the most experience in the field, and frankly, he seemed to have an upper hand in terms of access to Akira.  
Operative word: Seem. 

It was an uphill struggle; no one could make a diamond out of coal overnight. But Jared tried his damn best, from flickering candle, to hearth, to bonfire and now furnace… Anything to get her ready for the hellish inferno that Q.B. was thought to be.   
Neither of them had the option to back out now, they had committed.   
They trained, they sparred… He barked at her to work harder, to be better. It was intense. She was left exhausted, bruised… and on occasion, bloodied.   
The whole ordeal was as beautiful as it was dangerous.   
It threatened to tear apart their relationship, but it also brought them inconceivably closer.   
They pulled through. He took pride in watching her better herself, even when it meant working against her natural instincts. She revelled in being tested, in being pushed… It was frustrating to adhere to such high disciplinary standards, but it gave her a sense of purpose.

Then, today… for unknown reasons, she had unexpectedly and spectacularly failed.   
They both knew she hated failure. Which made it look deliberate.   
It was.   
She had her reasons; it would just defeat the purpose if she shared them.   
It had prompted Jared to reluctantly delve into his own experiences.   
He had endured corporal punishments growing up in The System and then some in the The Supremacy (though that had been much rarer). It was imperative for her to get accustomed to the existence of such practices. Q.B. (Quantum Brigade) was notorious for using them almost more indiscriminately than The Supremacy. A part of him feared it was what her darker side wanted. And her instinctive reaction proved him right. 

“A-Am I not taking them well enough, or something?”   
she hissed through grit teeth, still reeling from the last stroke. It stung, it was meant to, but that knowledge certainly did not make it any easier. She thought she had been doing well. Other than the occasional attempts to stamp out the pain, she had been quiet, and she’d held her position.   
He crouched beside her.   
“There is evidence of…”  
He trailed of... Since he tended to go easy on her and since she wasn’t exposing any parts of herself that he hadn’t already seen, she’d been bearing the repercussions of her shortcomings, bare.  
“Oh? Oh!”   
She took a moment, but when realisation dawned upon her and she reddened with embarrassment. She pulled herself off his bench. He rubbed his temples. 

“Well, fuck.”   
She whispered, reaching for her clothes.   
"I swear to god Shira, if I find out you did this deliberately to- to."  
She was still red, but now with indignation.   
"To what?! And what exactly are you going to do about it, either way?!"   
She felt irked and it quickly elicited her abrasive side. A best defence is a good offense, so she wanted to draw out his bluff. They both knew what was being implied and nobody wanted to approach the elephant in the room directly. They spoke of it and around it. Well, she did. 

"Is that what you think of me? You think I'm still not taking this seriously and trying to... get something out of this?"   
She made a big show of putting her clothes back on. Like covering herself up offered weight to her point.  
He did not speak, and she compulsively filled the silence as usual.   
"It's not like I can help it."   
Her voice grew quieter. In a flare of indignation, she smoothened her clothes and stared him down. He avoided eye contact as he paced. When she did allow the quiet to fester, it helped her see reason. She sighed and got up, shuffling towards him sheepishly. She put her head against his arm, he let his hands graze her shoulder, pensively. 

“I mean… I do not know... Maybe it is because it’s you.”  
She nibbled on her lower lip. There were no easy reassurances to offer and there were no guarantees either. He gently pulled her away.   
“Well… There is only one way to find out. Scarlett does not bother herself with such things, but you are about to take on a giant. I think it begs for an exception."   
She plucked his hand off her and narrowed her eyes.   
"So, you're going to tell on me?"   
She admired Scarlett, for the legends around her sheer skill and the part she had played in taking down The Supremacy, but nothing more and nothing less. They had had minimal interactions and they were all largely in an official capacity.   
"Yes, since you have no explanation for why you did so badly, and failing has been a punishable offence in the past... "   
His voice was already too detached for her liking. She felt like he had given up on her.   
He paused for long enough to give her a chance to share her reasons.   
She did not fear authority, nor did she really fear the consequence, but there was a general unease around someone relatively unknown… Not enough for her to give in though.   
-  
Within the hour, she was draped over a pommel horse, with her limbs hanging on either side, her toes skimmed the linoleum floor. Stamping her pain out would not be an option.   
Scarlett stood somewhere vaguely behind her, slicing the air with a thin cane, practicing her strikes.  
“It has been a while since I’ve had to do this.”  
Scarlett sounded mildly amused, like someone had offered her a desert she’d forgotten she liked.   
Nova, Jared and Emlyn were in the room too. Emlyn had been relatively unscathed upon rescue except for malnourishment and general evidence of dereliction. She was meant to be a combative agent, but her recovery slowed things down for her. Maybe she opted to be in the room to see some justice. Akira did not care much, it felt fair enough.

At least she was in shorts, no one would know even if their concocted hypothesis failed.  
Akira felt the cane slide against the uncovered back of her legs. Her eyes widened and she tensed. She had never been struck there before. It was allegedly supposed to be a lot worse.   
Scarlett decided to explain what made her choose her target.   
“Your butt is already well-bruised I hear. Traditionally, only basic first aid follows a punishment, so there will be no intervention by any BioHackers. Can’t risk battering you irreparably, hun.”  
Irreparable battering? That surely did not sound reassuring.   
Scarlett had her sights on Nova when she casually mentioned this. Nova averted her gaze.

This was meant to be a lesson in stoic endurance as much as it was supposed to reinforce, at the very least, the illusion of respect for authority.   
“You will count, and you will address me appropriately, is that clear hun?”   
Something about that saccharine voice reeked of a vicious intent.   
“Akira?”   
The question was not rhetorical apparently.   
“Yes.”   
“Yes, what?”   
“Yes… its clear?”   
Scarlett sighed.   
“Try again, Akira… Yes, what?”   
Aki was slower on the uptake than she should have been.   
Scar’s tone was condescending, patiently patronizing and everything that made it sound entitled. Akira hated entitlement. Though Scarlett probably deserved the spot she had at SpecSyn, it was at the very top.   
Akira sighed her answer,   
“Yes, sir.”  
“Well done. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  
She patted Akira’s back, it felt like a vacuous and demeaning gesticulation. She wanted this to be over with… Soon. 

The thin cane whistled through the air. And then there was impact and flesh rippled in its wake.   
The sound was registered first, before the sharp pain bloomed along with the red line that instantly began marring the flesh right above the knee. The skin did not break. Her knees buckled a little, but she held her position. Akira bit back the soft yelp that sought freedom.   
She inhaled deeply and held it briefly, to ensure her words sounded clear and steady.  
“One, sir…”  
The back and forth of whistle-crack and Akira’s counting, went on for about four more strikes. At the fifth, she broke a little.   
Scarlett was impressed that she lasted this long, as the strokes climbed steadily higher towards her sit-spot.   
“F-fuc- Five, Sir.”  
“Caught yourself just in time there, hun.”   
Scarlett tapped against the assaulted skin, making each burgeoning welt, throb in unison. She played the darkening bruises like an instrument, coaxing them to send waves of pain through Akira. Not the unbearable sort, just simple reminders of their existence. 

Aki’s legs curled upwards, on some delayed instinct. Scarlett whacked the soles of her feet sharply.  
The message was clear, Akira let her feet drop again with a disgruntled groan.   
“We’re people, not donkeys, hun. You’ll do well to remember that.”   
The sixth strike followed quickly, and it felt like a searing rod had been pressed into the crease of Aki’s thighs.   
“SSsssix…. Sssir.”  
“First a donkey, now a snake. Feeling bestial?”   
The room remained silent, apart from soft sniffles as tears streaked Nova’s face.   
Scarlett snickered at her own words and sauntered over to the tearful girl, tucking away her platinum-blonde hair and wiping her tears.

“Do you have anything to say, Nova? If you do not, do pull yourself together or you’re replacing her, dear.”  
Had Nova figured it out? Of course, she had. The girl was a fucking genius. Prodigally, so. The problem was, if Scarlett had figured things out too…   
Aki loved Nova to bits, but she really couldn’t understand how someone could cripple themselves with their empathy. She was going to make this entire venture pointless.   
Nova whimpered softly, hitched in a broken inhale and composed herself.   
Good.   
“Hm…”  
That sound Scarlett made sounded speculative.   
Aki felt her stomach sink and she tried to draw attention to herself again and cleared her throat with a certain audacity.   
It came off bleaker than it would’ve if she was not trying to manage her aching thighs.   
She folded her hands, instead of limply letting them hang towards the floor and clenched her fists.

“You’re going to have a harder time balancing like that. I’d hate to see you slip off.”  
Scarlett’s advice was not borne out of real concern.   
Aki really should’ve realised that everybody knew her reasons and now it was merely about either her or Nova confessing…   
She did not expect what happened next.   
Scarlett’s hand rested on the small of Akira’s back, supportively. Paradoxically to that tender gesture, a rain of biting, diagonal slashes fell upon Akira’s calves. She was keeping count for the first few, waiting to count like she was meant to, till the agony intensified. Tears blurred her vision. Indeed, she began slipping off, her feet pressed into the ground. Scarlett did not rearranger her. Her calves were soon not capable of supporting her weight, so she did have to remain leaning against the pommel horse. 

The cane began leaving deep lacerations and drew out louder yelps.  
“Do. You. Think. We’re. All. Idiots?”  
Scarlett’s words mingled with exertional exhales… and each one was punctuated with a stroke worse than the one before.   
It was only now that she realised everybody knew. Aki’s eyes now searched for Jared. He had his hands in his pockets and was watching the processions like it was a movie.   
He could not have intervened on her behalf; she didn’t want him to. But she expected empathy. 

She failed the physicals so Nova could make it into the top five… The test meant more for her progress than it did for Aki’s. Could Jared not fathom that?   
It left her seething; she was able to channel her anger into defiance again. Aki clenched her eyes shut as Scarlett marked and measured her swing again, tapping her target. Aki dropped her head and stared at the floor, she bit into her own palm to stop herself from crying out. The assault continued.   
“How. Dare. You. Disrespect. Our. System?”   
“Stop. Please! Please…”  
Nova finally intervened.   
Scarlett did.   
“Was this planned, Nova? You better not lie to me.”   
Aki’s shamefully tearful and bloodshot eyes bore into Nova and she shook her head. That was the truth too. Nothing was planned, Akira had acted on her own.

“N-Ye…”  
Nova hesitated because she understood Akira’s intentions and wanted to protect her friend… But there seemed to be no right answer. Even the hitch in her answer, provoked Scarlett to strike Aki again. Even Emlyn, who up until now was watching with a justifiably pleased expression, winced and visibly recoiled at the sound, of the cane and the pained cry from the victim.   
“Well?”   
Scarlett prompted.  
Aki’s cry tapered to a soft whimper. She took it upon herself to answer in a raspy whisper.   
“Sh-she didn’t know. I- It was all m-me.”   
Scarlett was glad for Akira’s admission; it had taken longer than she had anticipated.   
“I suppose the results are disregarded, then.”   
Aki pulled herself off the pommel horse, slowly. Limping slightly, she held onto the handles for support. Within a second, Nova’s taller lithe form tucked itself under Aki and she hoisted up her friend.   
“I-Is that not disrespecting y-your own system?”  
Akira’s riposte hit the mark.   
Scarlett sighed softly and left the cane against the stands in the gym on her way out.   
“Touché…You took that well, Shroff.”   
In the past, appreciation from the leader of SpecSyn would have made Akira swoon… Today, not so much. They all spent time making a point, trying to teach her something she did not want to learn.

~~~

“Too much of a good thing stops feeling good right?”   
Jared asked, almost lazily. Subconsciously, he drew this out, because he still wasn’t sure if he could push her boundaries on that front. The more time he spent trying to prepare her, trying to leave her vulnerable to his questions, the more his ire blunted.   
“That wasn’t really the point though, was it?”   
She responded with her own rhetoric.  
If he was here to make-good-things-feel-truly-bad. She just wished he would be done with it. Contrary to Jared, her fury towards him was sharpening. She was far more composed and even about his approach, till slowly, her walls began to fall. Akira hated feeling vulnerable and she hated that he had enough access to her past, to know exactly how to break those walls. 

“Are you sure you understood the real point? You never really bothered learning that lesson.”  
He used the tip of the cane to tuck the hair that had come undone to one side, using her shoulder to keep them in place.   
“Maybe… I learned it too well. Isn’t that your problem?”   
She immediately flicked them back to where they had been.  
He retaliated by smacking the back of her wrist with the implement. She hissed, her grip on the glass loosened and it fell out with a clink. The shape of the piece was reminiscent of a dagger. She opened and closed a fist to draw the pain out of her knuckles. 

“Were you really going to try get me with that? Wasn’t stabbing me in the back enough?”  
He asked so flatly, it was disconcerting. She did not respond.   
In careful motions, she turned fully and stretched out her legs and sat with them neatly folded underneath her. Her hands rested on her knees. If it wasn’t for the slight stoop of her back owing to the weight of the collar, she’d look meditative as she stared up at him.  
“Should’ve given me a chance if you really wanted to know. But you know what they say, if at first you do not succeed, try again.”.


	9. Below the belt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers and fists fly. Sneaky tactics and hurtful words make matters worse.  
> There is enough hate for the desire to kill. (Briefly)  
> ...And not nearly enough for a follow through.

_“Should’ve given me a chance if you really wanted to know. But you know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed, try try again.”.\_  
Her voice echoed in the cell and in his head.  
Jared clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes as she seemingly, threatened his life. Her words were blatant too and hurtfully so. She twisted the words he used to encourage her playfully. Not that she had any way to act on her words.  
Does she really want me dead, then?  
He looked down at the implement in his hand.  
And he hated her for being right. He could not simply channel the spirit of someone like Scarlett… Brutally, and yet, systematically thrashing a victim with a cane, especially an incapacitated one like Akira. Especially against Akira herself. It was not something Jared could pull off, not unless he absolutely had to. And he hated being in that situation, he had been there too many times. 

But there were other things he could do… Death would merely be an unlikely sequela. In the end, it was an inevitability any way. He recognized that some part of his brain, did not quite reject that outcome as vehemently as it should have. He let the thought come… and go.  
No, I won’t let her take anything from me anymore. Besides, I’m better.  
Jared snorted.  
“Yeah? You wanna have a go… Shira?”  
She looked at him resolute, neck slightly craned to accommodate for the collar. Her eyebrows shot up with a certain eagerness. Tempers were smouldering.  
“You really are that curious, eh?”  
He answered by shoving his hand into his pocket, he clicked something, and the collar expanded.  
“The chain needs a valve, but the lock opens with a button…”  
She muttered with a mild fascination, it had enough room for her to wriggle it off her head, but it was heavy enough to require some effort. 

He kept his distance and chuckled at her observation.  
“Didn’t expect us to employ designed theatrics?”  
A part of her could not fathom why he still insisted on associating himself with SpecSyn.  
It was her turn to slow clap. She beamed with mocking exaggeration.  
“Congratulations, my Red Knight! You have successfully risen to the level of your enemy. Because, honestly. SpecSyn does play nastier don't they? Either way, aren’t you proud?”  
Her accusation was against him as much as it was against the organization she had sworn her loyalty to.  
_So she just decided that SpecSyn was nastier? Is that why she decided to simply stop doing her job?_ She really had a knack for killing the small joys he was trying to derive. The ghost of his chuckle echoed in the room. His palms were itching now. He dug his nails into them as he opened and closed his fist, stretching his fingers.  
“Go on then, get the shard, Akira, I’d hate for this to be one-sided.”  
Back to Akira instead of Shira. The sharper ache she had once felt at the loss of endearment, was much duller now. 

She was tired, she was hungry, she was addled, and she was pissed. So, she leapt off her feet and flung herself at him.  
That was just insulting and pathetic. He had enough time and warning. His free hand wound towards the opposite shoulder, then it swung towards her face, once she was close enough.  
_Smack._  
The combined momentum was enough for the impact of his knuckles and fingers to knock her back.  
Her face swivelled. Everything blurred. She panicked briefly, but he did not follow up with anything… yet, and gave her a chance to compose herself.  
Was he going to draw this out? Was this some perverse lesson?  
She gasped and stumbled backwards, carefully avoiding the smaller pieces of glass still on the floor. She held her ground. The sting of the slap felt intense enough to leave a lingering sense of numbness. Her ear rang a little. Her tongue jutted out to catch the trickle of blood that snuck out of the corner of her mouth, her lip split a little.  
Slowly, she righted her head to glare at him again. He had successfully evoked the feral in her. Never, had he struck her like that before. So, it was truly over then. This was it. At least, that is what it felt like.  
Her breathing was uneven, so was his. 

“You expected me to roll over and die for you, Shira?”  
A drawl was not a common tone for Jared, but it suited him fine now.  
She realised that he adopted Shira whenever he got his taste of a small victory.  
He is mocking me… by mocking us! Or…  
Despite her being the captive, the interrogee… Being at his mercy, maybe she still had some hold over the situation. A part of her revelled in that knowledge. She wished to savour it for as long as she could. The power struggle between them was palpable. Akira wasn’t sure about killing him before, but she sure as hell wanted to now. An animalistic war-cry tumbled out of her lips. She threw herself at him yet again, but this time, her leap was measured. 

He really did not peg her for the sort to make the same mistake twice. But then, she was being bullishly bellicose. Was she still not thinking with her head?  
He decided to use the cane this time, swinging it over his head almost warningly as she got closer.  
She did not stop.  
So, he decided to follow through.  
But he should have trusted his hunch. She was thinking with her head alright. 

She did not simply lunge at him, she had a plan. Akira stepped in, towards him. Her arm shot straight out, as a wedge between him and his outstretched limb. Hers was flattened against her ear and blocked the incoming strike before he got the full-swing’s worth. The stick slid against her; she rolled her arm over his, to lock his stick-wielding wrist. Before he had the chance to wriggle out of this, which he certainly could manage with sheer brute force, she jabbed her knee into his crotch, once… twice, reared up for thrice but couldn’t follow through as her hatred waned.  
He exhaled sharply, then grunted as he keeled forward. The other hand caught her knee, her hesitance gave him time.  
“Below the belt… really?”  
A raspy, strained voice called her out. She would have retorted that after the slap, this barely left them even. But she was more interested in shutting him up. 

She rearranged her knee, pulling it closer to herself. Her joint whisked his blocking hand on the way to its target: his face.  
He pulled away enough to prevent a nose break and almost opened his mouth to let his teeth graze flesh, but he did not want to fight dirty, or worse… end up with his teeth knocked in.  
His lips split in two places too.  
All he had to do, was to wait for her to make a mistake, because he was certain she would.  
She manoeuvred him to the floor, with his arm still in her grip. She pivoted him, by twisting the arm cruelly, as he fell. She ensured that he landed on to the glass shards on the floor. The cane slipped out of his hand.  
“Here, have your god-damn shards.”  
She hissed pressing his face into the ground with her knee and holding his arm in a lock, her hip flush against his elbow. 

The small cuts against his jaw and cheekbones spouted crimson. But there were other pressing matters to deal with.  
Literally. Something was pressing against a joint he was rather attached to.  
Her legs stretched over his throat and neck as she sat back, with his arm pulled across her. She kept her elbows tucked in and his wrist in a strong lock as she slowly bucked upwards, rolling her hip against his outstretched elbow.  
“Having fun?”  
His words were still laboured, but the implication in his voice almost made her head cloud again.  
Almost.  
Keeping her motion controlled so she could draw this out, took effort, so her own voice was worn too.  
“You betcha!”  
But to show him that she was serious, she notched upwards just a little faster and just a little higher.  
He drew a sharp breath; he choked out a sound and swore with anguish.  
“F-FUCK…”  
Akira could have sworn she heard something crack. She loosened her grip.

In fact, she had not heard a thing, because nothing was broken. He was still reeling from the explosive pain between his legs. But his arm was fine.  
He flexed his elbow, it was close the fork between her legs now. In a moment of flitting anger, Jared considered taking revenge for the crotch shots but thought better of it. He sharply tucked his arm towards himself. His wrist slipped out of her grip.  
The moment the hold was broken, the two of them snapped away from each other, and they got to their feet in a hurry.  
I will walk away a better man. 

Barely though, he did just test her concern for him and was surprised to find it was still there. He was not happy about the tactic he used, especially because it worked. In the recesses of his mind, he wished she did not betray any evidence of feelings that she may or may not have for him. That uncertainty, complicated things, in intent and in action.  
Akira let out a hollow, giddy giggle, it cracked the words she used to call out his cheap tactic.  
“I thought I’d be able to tell if you were ever faking it.”  
He rolled his eyes and absently flicked his thumb over the cuts on his face, to assess the damage. Expectedly, the touch elicited a sharp sting across the wounds and viscous crimson painted his skin.

She stumbled backwards to keep her distance, till her back was flush against the wall.  
“I mean… You could never tell when I did.”  
Her words dripped with bitterness. Naturally, she was hurt that he had exploited the fact that she still cared, it came as a surprise to her too. Now that it had been used against her, that tendon of attachment broke like the arm had not. It made her want to hurt him again. Somehow.

He had never paid much mind to the lurking feelings of inadequacy when it came to her, of not being social enough, happy enough… experimental enough.  
She had never let him dwell on it too, not until she left for Q.B… and met someone else, or so it seemed. It was not the original source of his antagonism towards her. He did not wish ill upon her for moving on as the distance and circumstance made communication impossible.  
But, with the backdrop of friction and guilt, her words touched a nerve he did not know had been exposed all this time. Neither did she. 

Jared was unexpectedly swift. He really should not have let her petty words drive him to lash out. And he realised as much, in the time it took for him to close the distance and throw a punch. She barely managed a guiding parry and a small side-step away from him.  
The air his motion perturbed, whisked against her side.  
His knuckles collided with the wall. His own aim had wavered enough for him to miss, just barely. Her side step assured it. He was glad he did, even though, this time something did break. He groaned, but his fist remained against the wall and his arm stood like a fence between them.  
Aki’s fear rose like bile. She swallowed. If that had connected, she would be… considerably hurt.  
Without giving her a chance to recover from the shock, or himself from the pain, he stepped in closer yet and folded his elbow. His forearm fell across her throat. His shoe fell across her bare feet.  
Panic.  
There was the mistake he had been expecting. She tried to claw her way away from the wall and he let her, just enough to slip his arm around her throat.  
_That's it then, for real this time. He's going to kill me._ She thought as the arm coiled around her like a snake, tightening to slowly choke the life out of her. She almost wished she had taken the chance to tell him everything. She felt just as breakable as his arm and just like she could not break a limb, he certainly couldn’t break her. He did pull his arm towards him and squeezed, carefully. Not to kill, just to neutralise. As he slowly felt the struggle melt out of her body, his rage followed suit and melted out of him. She slackened in his hold.


	10. Drowning.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tanks full of water, tanks full of doubt.  
> Jared opts for his go-to interrogation method once he realises he's pressed for time.  
> And it works, not because he perfectly executes the the methodic torment... But because he can't.

The loss of consciousness, felt like a blessing. Her fears, worries, all the pains and aches dissolved with it, as she surrendered to the darkness. The return of her consciousness was a surprisingly welcome change too. It felt like coming home. She could not have been out for more than half an hour. Yet, she felt rested and refreshed. It put everything into perspective. She felt devoid of the all-consuming flux of emotions. Her mind felt like a blank canvas.  
She was certain this would not last. 

There was a vague taste of déjà vu to the moment. Though she was seated on a chair, there was nothing tying her down. She was slumped, with her cheek against some wooden surface. Her eyes opened a crack. There were no spotlights to make her wince, or to make her sweat. On the contrary, it felt like the air around her had adopted a chilly nip. From where she lay, fingers came into view first, her eyes scanned upwards, and noticed a bloodied, poorly fastened bandage wound over the knuckles. She noticed her own handle on the table as it inched towards the injured one out of some involuntary concern.

She stopped just in time, when her gaze traversed up the arm and to the face. She pulled herself off the table. Jared was by her side, he half-sat, half-leaned on the table. He wasn’t obscured by shadows; he was illuminated by a diffuse yellow light. Just like the fish-tank in front of her.  
She could see the condensation settle like dew drops on the surface of the container and the glassy stillness of the water within.  
She sat bolt upright upon noticing it. 

They were in a secure location, but she had reason to believe SpecSyn had not sanctioned this tête-à-tête. For one, small injuries, like the cuts on his face and the bloody knuckles would be easy to fix almost instantly if he had access to the organisation’s resources.  
She knew of his aversion to treatments, but SpecSyn had never much cared much for his preferences. Besides, it felt like an inexorably long time for the organisation to have shown no interest in their most-despised turncoat after she was captured. They would have many more tools and far lesser inhibitions when it came to make her suffer.  
But Jared was the only one who could really get her to talk.  
_Why was he doing this?_  
His motivations and intentions remained murky. Which was unsettling at best and dangerous at worse. If he were truly running against the clock, she’d have her answers soon, one way or another. And she wanted hers, as much as he wanted his. 

“Where am I?”  
Her sight darted between him and the water.  
“Get up.”  
He responded, as icily as the water that sat in the tank.  
“Answer me, Jared…”  
There was no arrogance in her tone, no desperation either, she sincerely wished he’d come clean, so that maybe she could.  
His hand found the nape of her neck, his fingers stretched into her frizz of her matted tresses. Her hair parted to accommodate before he made a tight fist and yanked her upwards.  
Her own hands instinctively clasped at his wrists as a pained whimper tainted the air between them. She pulled herself off, before he ripped the strands. He remained where he was on the table, so their faces were at level with each other.  
He used her hair like a leash, using it to direct her.  
“Listen, I’m losing patie-”  
“Patience or time?”  
She challenged, staring into his eyes. For the first time, she was the ice, he was fire.  
“Why did you stop your surveillance, Akira?”  
“Why don’t you just give me up to Spec-”  
His interruption was a lot crueller than hers.  
He dunked her head into the frigid water, without warning.  
She didn’t get to draw a long enough breath to prepare for the assault of the water. It felt like being sucked into ice. At first there was a soothing lull as her senses were drowned out. The numbness that soon began stinging unpleasantly. 

It drew out the soft gasps. The controlled exhales made pretty bubbles in the water, that only looked like blurred, yellowish demons to her. Her hands gripped the sides of the tank as she tied to push against his hand, but she was losing strength fast and tactically gave up. She had to save the little energy she had left to accommodate for the shock-like shudders traversing through nerve and sinew.  
The most dreaded part awaited. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to hold out just a little longer.  
Don’t breathe in. Don’t breathe in. Don’t breathe in.  
Mind could only do so much against matter.  
And matter, in the form of water, soon came surging in through her mouth and nostrils. She tried gulping some so she did not overwhelm her lungs.  
Something so chilly, could really burn bad.  
But he yanked her out. 

She sputtered vehemently trying to get rid of as much water as she could. Then she coughed as her body forced her to gulp the air. Water dripped down her face, neck and soaked into her white shirt.  
As she heaved breaths with a physiologic desperation. He forced her to look up at him again. Cold steely eyes were set on watered-down defiance.  
“Why, Akira?”  
Her faith in herself was shaking, but she could not give him what she wanted, without knowing why he wanted it. If he just wanted it for SpecSyn, he could’ve saved himself the trouble of going off the books, this way and just given her up to Scar-And-Mark.  
“Why not let them find out directly, did they put you up to this?”  
Her words were largely lost to the rasps. He understood them with ease, and they were not answering his question.  
He let her finish though, just so he could dunk her before she had the chance to inhale and fill her lungs with air to hold.  
She struggled frantically, like a fish out of water… or a person in held in some.  
He pulled her out sooner this time.  
“We’re going around in circles.”  
He stated with a shrug, there was a hint of a plea behind his logical words, one that she could not hear yet, nuances were hard to catch when ears felt sealed with cold fluid, she tried twist in his grip, just to get the water out of the freakin’ canals. It bothered her more than it should have, given the predicament.  
He did not let go of her hair.  
She swayed in his grip. He rearranged his grip so it was closer to the roots and slid closer so her head could use his arm like a stilt.  
“W-We are.”  
The tremble of her lips broke her words and made her slur, there was a plea in her words too.  
He clicked his tongue. Her eyes were slowly becoming bloodshot.  
She stole her inhale this time and held it, watching him resigned. 

They were at an impasse.  
Why did she have to make everything more difficult?  
Her resistance was dwindling, it felt easier for him to manoeuvre her into the water this time.  
She struggled lesser too, while submerged.  
He held her there, till the involuntary reactions acted as an evidence of her discomfort.  
Fear.  
Theoretically, she was not scared of dying. But the body’s fear of mortality was an inescapable overwhelming sensation. The water did well to hide her tears. The desperate gasps for air hid the sobs. But he could probably tell. When he plucked her out this time, he let go of her. 

She collapsed onto the chair, looking shrunken as her body curled inwards, trying to seek respite from the cold. Her feet inched up the legs of the chair till she had her lower limbs folded against her. She rested her face against her knee, then tilted it to look up at Jared.  
He was so still with his squared shoulders and his folded hands, he looked more like a statue than a man. It was the stony look in his eyes, that really did him in. He looked down at her with… pity?  
She could not have that. 

_Cue something snarky._  
He knew it was the easiest way for her to hide her vulnerabilities. He was right.  
“I- I would’ve f-found out by now, in your p-place.”  
She was almost inaudible, her credence in her own statement, was running at an all-time low.  
He leaned closer. Running his hands over her glistening cheek.  
“That is because I have a past and you do not, Shira. Well… Didn’t.”  
There was a dazed look in her eyes. She could not muster the strength to reply.  
He asked another question,  
“Tell me, did they ever do this to you?”  
His hands found their way into her slick strands again. 

That she could answer. Her time at Q.B. had been less hellish than she was led to believe it would be, in some ways. Though she could attribute that to her luck. She shook her slowly, nuzzling into his touch by default. It felt like she was stealing caresses from him. He hooked his foot behind the leg of the chair and drew her closer to the tank on the table. He closed his fingers in her hair, into a loose fist again. There was a distant threat in his actions. She tore her gaze away from him and looked back at the water that sat there, gently rippling and waiting.  
“Work with me, Shira. Do you know where Nova is?”  
Her dark eyes snapped back at him, the penetrative gaze flashed such intense grief, that it left Jared feeling stabbed. It begged a question he was quick to ask,  
“I-Is she dead?”  
She shook her head.  
“Then just… tell me.”  
She bit her lip; her nostrils flared a little as she bit back the urge to blubber.  
For the first time, she looked truly guilty. That still did not mean she could tell him.  
When she was submerged again, she accepted her fate willingly, deliberately exhaling into the water.  
_I’m so done._  
He noticed the way she surrendered and pulled her back out immediately. This was easier when she was fighting. This, he could not handle. He knew what guilt looked like; he knew what it made him want to do sometimes. She susurrated through grit teeth and continued to stare into the tank a little vacantly. Her uneven short breaths, her shaking body… The emptiness, that willingness to just give up. 

He couldn’t take it any more than she could.  
“Stop it. Why can’t you just tell me damn it?!”  
It was not the raised voice, but the concern and the desperation in his voice that broke her final wall.  
And she wept. 

Before he knew it, they were both on the floor. He was leaning against the wall and she was cradled against his chest.  
He had wrapped himself around her coiled form, till she stopped shaking… from the cold, the grief and whatever else it was that was haunting her.  
Amidst her tears, she whispered a single name that answered many questions and left many more in its haunting wake.  
She was answering just one.  
_Do you know where Nova is?_  
“Ezekiel.”


End file.
